An Indecent Predicament
by Vintage Tea Party
Summary: As a joke, Jo dares Henry to eat a gyro. In his stubbornness he accepts the challenge. But neither is laughing when they both contract food poisoning. They have a very uncomfortable night ahead of them but in the midst of all the pain and embarrassment they just might find that their new friendship is even stronger than they realized. A Henry and Jo Sick!Fic
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: I place this fic as taking place relatively early in the series. This is a sick!fic so it probably goes without saying but there will be multiple mentions of food poisoning related symptoms throughout this story. If those things make you uncomfortable this might not be the story for you. However, if they don't bother you, I hope you will enjoy reading as Henry and Jo are put through a night of pain and suffering!**

Henry had known he was going to regret this decision. He'd known that before he'd even agreed to it, had known it even long before this day. He just hadn't expected to regret quite this much.

Henry and Jo had finished their work day and decided to have dinner together. They had just successfully solved another tough murder and a celebration seemed to be in order. Ever the gentleman, Henry had allowed Jo to choose the restaurant. He may not have been so polite if he had known what her choice would be. He knew his words were a mistake the second they were out of his mouth. Jo's face lit up and her lips turned up into a devious smile like she had won the lottery; one he already knew he would be paying for. He was not at all surprised when she said she wanted to stop at one of the roadside carts for gyros.

Of course, he hadn't wanted to eat there at all. He never bought food from any of those appalling sidewalk stands and he never ate gyros. Combining the two made for one of the most unappealing meals he could imagine. But he could see right away that Jo expected, even wanted, him to refuse the request. He also knew that if he did she would taunt him relentlessly about it. He decided he did not want to give her that opportunity so he smiled and agreed instantly. She offered that they could go somewhere else if he didn't want a gyro, knowing full well he didn't, but he was determined to see this through to the end. He had been accused of being closed-minded at times and he wanted to prove he wasn't. By sheer force of will he had managed to choke down the whole thing with a forced smile and nary a complaint.

He had known that his palate would not accept the retched thing as proper food and had been prepared for indigestion. He had expected it and was not at all surprised when it came. What he hadn't expected was for his stomach to completely reject the meal. At first, he was sure that he was only being dramatic. When it had been only indigestion he assumed he'd only thought about it so much that he'd made himself feel sick by suggestion; he'd been repulsed by the thought of the gyro and therefor had mentally talked himself into actually feeling sick. But when the nausea had turned into a sharp stabbing pain he knew this was something else. It now felt like he had knives impaling him in the stomach from all angles as violent cramps coursed through his abdomen.

Despite the cool fall air that surrounded them as they walked slowly to Jo's home, perspiration was building up on Henry's forehead. He felt himself starting to sweat heavily under his jacket too, though he knew the weather didn't warrant it. He felt bad because he knew Jo was speaking but he had no idea really what she was saying. He was getting weaker by the second and every step seemed to require his full attention. He stomach was on fire, his head pounded, he was incredibly dizzy and nauseous. All he could think about was resting and he felt so bad that he contemplated just stopping and laying down on the sidewalk.

By the time they arrived at Jo's house Henry was absolutely sure he wasn't going to make it home before he got sick. He'd had this before and he knew the unpleasant symptoms of food poisoning well. All he wanted to do was to go home and suffer through the hours of torture that lay ahead of him. But he knew he wasn't going to make it there in time, at least before it started.

"Jo, uh, do you mind if I use your restroom before I head home?"

Jo seemed distracted herself. He'd thought she'd been talking but maybe she hadn't been. Good, then maybe he hadn't been as rude as he felt.

"Yeah. Sure," she said, unlocking her door.

He followed her inside, praying she would move quicker. He now knew it was only going to a matter of seconds before he got sick and he really didn't want the first thing he did in her home to be throwing up on her floor.

"The bathroom is down the hall, second door on the right."

"Thank you," he said, already moving in that direction.

10 minutes later, with his forehead pressed against the toilet set, Henry was actually hoping for death. He certainly felt like he was dying and for once he would welcome it if saved him from this anguish. It was irrational to want it given all the problems it would create but he longed for it none the less. Of course, he knew this wouldn't kill him. He'd had food poisoning several times over the years and though it always made him wish for the escape of death it had never actually led to it.

He wrapped an arm around his stomach waiting for the inevitable next wave to overtake him. In the relatively short amount of time that he had been in here he'd already lost count of how many times he'd vomited. His stomach ached more each time from the strain of it and the worst thing of it all was that it didn't even seem to provide any relief. He was certain that his stomach was empty now but that didn't make the stabbing knives go away and it didn't stop the heaving. Although he was a doctor and knew it was pretty much impossible he was nearly convinced that next time his stomach was going to come up with it.

He'd lost sight of time, lost track of anything else in the world. His world was nothing but nausea, dizziness and pain until a voice broke through it.

"Henry," Jo called from the other side of the door. "I, uh... uh, can I come in?"

Henry groaned quietly, closing his eyes and hanging his head over the toilet. This was _so_ embarrassing. He'd been invited into Jo's home to only go into her bathroom and repeatedly throw up. She had surely heard him by now; though he had tried his best he knew he hadn't exactly been quiet. "I apologize, Jo. But I'm in a bit of an...indecent predicament here."

"Henry..."

"I think that those gyros might not have been a good idea."

"Henry!" Jo called out a little more insistently, though the urgency in her voice escaped Henry's notice.

"I'm sure I will be alright. I just need a few moments to get myself together..."

"Oh for goodness' sake, Henry! Just stop talking!" Jo said, busting through the door of the bathroom. Spotting Henry hunched over the toilet, she ran quickly to the sink, leaned over it and got terribly sick. When she had finished, she ran the water, quickly washing the mess away and she collapsed weakly to the floor next to him, breathing heavily.

"So, I see you also seem to be inflicted?" he asked lamely trying to lighten the mood and tying to not focus on the way seeing her get sick made him nauseous all over again.

"Gee, what tipped you off?" she shot back as she clutched at her stomach, her hands tearing at her shirt in agony.

She apparently wasn't in the mood for jokes. And it didn't work to distract him either. He leaned over the toilet and got sick again. How was it possible for a person to be sick this many times? Right now, all his medical knowledge seemed to go right out the window and it really did seem impossible. He heard Jo groan next to him and he blushed at being seen in such an embarrassing situation. But he soon realized she had problems of her own, enough not have any energy in which to judge him.

She looked around worriedly and he could practically see her turning green. That expression was usually an exaggeration but Jo was actually changing shades of color. He could recognize the look on her face for what it was; she was going to be sick again. A pitiful sound left her mouth as her hand still grabbed at her abdomen.

"Here," he said scooting out of the way and waving her towards the toilet with a weak hand. She got up on her knees and leaned over it. She heaved several times and he wrapped an arm around her, trying to comfort her. He was unable to do much more than that for her, when he was so focused on trying to forget what she was doing. He was a physician so vomiting had never bothered him; dealing with it was just part of the job. It was often very necessary and he could see it at for what it was: a normal process meant to rid the body of unwanted contagion. However, with how ill he was feeling at the moment it was impossible to remain that detached. She hadn't gotten sick as many times as he had yet but she was quickly catching up. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply through his mouth trying to think of the most boring useless information he could to distract himself.

Finally, after what seemed like a lifetime (his kind of long lifetime at that), she stopped. She gasped for breath for a while. After a minute of hearing nothing but her breathing, he felt it was safe to look over at her. He saw she was breaking out in a sweat and there were a couple of tears at the corner of her watery eyes.

"Are you alright?" he asked, rubbing his hand against her arm a few times.

"Yeah, I think so," she said, wiping her face with a shaking hand. "For now," she added ominously.

She reached up to flush the toilet and he saw she was trembling. She looked at him a bit sheepishly and wiped her face again self-consciously. "Sorry, you had to see that."

"Likewise," he said.

"I don't suppose there is any point in being embarrassed?"

He smiled a little. "I don't think so."

He helped her lean back and rest against the floor. He lowered himself down beside her and though the floor was hard it was cold and that felt good. It felt so good he was able to distract himself from thoughts of the germs that lived on a bathroom floor, even a clean one, as Jo's appeared to be.

"I guess it's food poisoning then?" she asked as she pulled the bottom of her shirt out of jeans and undid her belt, surely to relieve the pressure of them from her aching belly.

It seemed such a good idea he threw away social convention (what was the point anyway?) and decided to follow her example. He now realized how oppressive his own clothes were. He untucked his shirt and undid the bottoms on his vest and pulled his tie loose. It helped somewhat but he be found himself longing for soft pajamas and comfortable blankets around him.

"That would be my diagnosis."

"I've eaten there ...dozens of times and I've never gotten sick," she said sounding as tired as if she had just run a marathon. "I don't know what happened."

"It was made in a cart on the side of the road. What did really you expect?"

"Henry, I don't know if you've noticed or not but you live in New York City; you can buy all kinds of food on the side of the road," she said defensively.

He realized he had come off sounding like a snob or know-it-all but couldn't she see how bad a choice it was? "That doesn't mean it's any good," he said standing his ground. "Do you have any idea the kind of bacteria that can grow when-"

Jo groaned, rolling on her side and curling up with her back to him. "I'm not in the mood for a lecture."

"I'm not lecturing you."

"Almost everything you say is a lecture!"

"All I'm saying is-"

"If you say 'I told you so,' then I will punch you in the face. I'm not sure I have the strength to get off the floor right now but I know I have the strength for _that_."

A moment of silence passed between them. They were both ill and cranky and it was making them surprisingly irritable at each other. They playfully argued and teased each other all of the time but what had just passed between them had not been playful. It had been real annoyance.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly. "I don't mean to snap."

"It's alright. I'm sorry too. I'm not blaming you for this. Really, food poisoning can happen anywhere. There are millions of cases of it a year."

"Thank you for... you know, putting your arm around me while I was..." she said awkwardly, trying to make up for her harsh words. "It was comforting."

"You're welcome. Thank you for allowing me to use your…facilities."

She surprised him by laughing a little. "I don't think either one of us had a choice in that."

He looked at her and then they both laughed. It sent the stabbing through his stomach again and the caused the rocking back and forth to start again and they both paused to check their stomachs making sure they wouldn't protest more than that.

After a moment, when they were both sure that they were going to be alright, she spoke again. "So, is that the worst of it you think?" she asked hopefully.

He paused only for a moment, trying to figure out what would be the most delicate way of answering her question, but it was long enough. "Oh no," she groaned.

"I'm afraid there probably is more to come."

"Great," she said with heavy sarcasm. She sat up slowly and cautiously. Seeing that she was about to get up he rushed to stand so he could give her a hand. The action cause such a violet head rush that his vision went black and for a terrible minute he thought he might actually faint. A fresh sweat broke out on his face and neck but the dizziness thankfully started to pass. His vision was covered in spots but was returning and he found Jo giving him a disapproving look.

"There's no need for that," she said, knowing what he had been about to do.

He admitted defeat, reaching out a hand to the sink to steady himself. "I was just trying to be helpful," he said before taking several deep breaths as the blood returned to his head.

"I know," she said a little kinder. "But you need to remember that _you_ are sick too. No reason to hurt yourself just to be polite."

On weak legs they both managed to stumble out of the bathroom and down the hall. They looked so much like a well-liquored pair it would have been funny if it weren't so painful.

"Can I use your phone?" he asked as they entered Jo's living room. Even though Abe might not exactly be happy, Henry figured it was better to call him to come and escort him home rather than taking his chances on a cab ride. Abe could at least bring him a tub for the ride.

"Yeah. Over there," she said waving a hand towards a desk against the wall. He staggered to the phone and hunched tiredly over the table as he held it to his ear. He was already dreaming longingly of his bed as it started to ring.

While he was waiting for Abe to answer he glanced back to see where Jo was. She had made her way to the couch and was curled up on it, her arms held tightly around herself and looking about as miserable as it was possible for a person to look.

Henry was struck with guilt for how long it had taken him to wonder who was going to take care of her. Abe was not the most gentle or willing of nurses but he was a good boy and he would take good care of his old man while he was sick. But Jo would be here alone. Food poisoning was rarely a serious illness but it was very unpleasant and a case of it could really put a person through the ringer. He knew enough about her now to know she wouldn't ask for help but she would no doubt need it. Even if she could manage alright on her own, who wanted to be alone when they were sick? Loneliness would make this terrible situation even more difficult to cope with.

He could offer to take her home with him and Abe could take care of them both but he knew right away Jo would never accept. He could offer to stay here and help her himself but she would refuse that too. She wouldn't want to impose on anyone. If he was going to help her he knew he would have to make it seem like he wasn't staying just for her. He knew she wouldn't appreciate the protective sentiment but she looked so sad and vulnerable as she lay there on the couch that he couldn't bear the thought of leaving her alone. His stomach continued to argue at him and he realized he might be more trouble than help. By the time it was all over she may be wishing for him to just leave but at least she wouldn't be alone.

"Hello," Abe answered on the other end.

"Hello, Abe."

"Hey, Henry. What's up?"

"I'm at Jo's."

"Oh?" Abe asked with a bit of curiously. It was, after all, a statement that Henry had never made before.

"Yeah, I'm going to spend the night."

" _Really_?" Abe asked, clear interest as well as amusement in his voice now.

"Now, don't start," Henry warned. "Jo and I are sick."

"I don't need the details, Pops," Abe said with a chuckle.

"Abraham, you stop that right now!" Henry said in his best stern father voice while still keeping it low so Jo wouldn't hear. "I'm serious. Jo and I went for dinner after work and she picked one of those awful food carts. Now I think we both have food poisoning."

"Oh. Sorry, to hear that," Abe said finally growing serious. "Are you going to be alright?"

"I think so. We're feeling pretty miserable but it's just something that will have to run its course. But I don't feel comfortable leaving Jo here by herself."

"Do you need anything? You want me to come over?"

"No, thank you. I don't want Jo to know you're home."

"Why not?"

"If she knows you're home she'll expect me to go there and let you take care of me rather than letting me stay here and help her."

"Henry, why don't you just tell her you want to keep her company?" Abe asked, familiar exasperation tinting his voice.

"Because she's not the kind to want help. If she thinks she's taking care of me as well she'll accept the help better." He remembered her brush off back in the bathroom. He knew she had had a point there but on a good day Jo was very much an independent woman who wanted to take care of everything herself. It wasn't that he ever offered help to offend her strength; he only wanted to help. It knew it was the modern way of things but it made a chivalrous man like himself confused with what to do

"She's a detective. She's going to figure it out."

"No, she won't."

"Despite the fact that you have somehow managed to keep a very big secret relatively well for the past 200 years, you are _not_ a very good liar."

"I just want to take care of her," Henry said honestly. "And she makes that difficult, you know?"

"Alright," Abe relented. "I still say she's going to find out and when she does she won't too happy."

"I'll take my chances."

"How about I come by tomorrow you bring you two some food? Is that _allowed_?" Abe asked his voiced taunting on the last word. Abe was a good son but he could still be a little snot sometimes.

"Yes, that would great," Henry said ignoring the tone. He also attempted to ignore the way his stomach rolled at just the word 'food'. "Just the blandest thing you can manage though. I'm sure we won't be up for much. And some tonic."

"Sure thing. I hope you feel better," Abe said sincerely. "Call me if you guys need anything."

"I will. Thank you, Abraham," Henry said fondly. "Goodnight."

"Good night, Pops."

Henry hung up the phone and walked back towards the couch. Jo opened her eyes and looked at him. Her face was pale but her cheeks flushed and she was breaking out in sweat. She was still in obvious pain and might possibly be running a fever. Upon some further self-examination, he realized he wasn't feeling too great either. He felt slightly lightheaded and weak and quickly sat down on the couch beside her.

"Did you get a hold of Abe?" she asked but she did not move from where she was laying still scrunched up in ball.

"Ah, no actually," Henry said cautiously. "I forgot he, uh, actually is on a trip out of town for the night. With one of his friends. He won't be back until tomorrow," he rattled off sloppily. With Abe's words of caution ringing in his ears he noticed it and feared Jo wasn't going to buy it.

"Well, what are you going to do?" she asked. Apparently, disease had altered her normally impeccable deduction skills. Good.

"I don't want to bother him. I'll just call a cab," he said trying to sound casual.

"A cab? Henry," she said with worry, starting to sit up slightly like she might try to stop him. "You think you'll be able to make it through a cab ride home?"

"I'm not sure," he answered. That part, at least, was the truth. He was dismayed to realize that his stomach felt like it was gearing up for another round already. He wrapped an arm around himself, a genuine grimace starting to form on his face.

"And what are you going to when you get there anyway?" she said, tilting her head as she stared at him. "Sit in your house alone and sick?"

He fought hard to contain a smile. That was exactly what she would have done. She wouldn't have accepted help if he had just outright offered it to her and would have struggled through her illness alone. But she wouldn't think of having him do the same. She had a good heart, maybe a little too good for her own good sometimes. She made it so difficult for herself and he was glad his plan was working out so well.

"Can I suggest an alternative?" she asked.

"Please, do," he said, trying to sound completely oblivious to what he knew would be her suggestion.

She gave him a look and for a moment he was sure that she was on to him. But then he realized she was looking at him with exasperation because the answer was so obvious. "Why don't you stay here? I don't know how much help I can be but it's got to be better than sitting all alone in your house," she said with a good humored smile.

"Well, if you really don't mind?"

"Not at all. Maybe between the two of us we can manage to keep each other alive until tomorrow."

Henry smiled, a genuine smile, despite all pain and sickness he felt. "Sounds like a plan, Detective."


	2. Chapter 2

Henry had been so focused on offering assistance to Jo and so pleased when his plan worked that he hadn't really thought about how awkward this night could be for them. In the long silence that followed, he started to contemplate it. He had never been in Jo's home before and now he was going to be spending the night while being very sick. While the recent episode in the bathroom had been embarrassing for them both he knew it was likely to be only the beginning of a long and humiliating night. While he still knew he wanted to be there so he could help her, he wondered if it all might put a strain on their rather new friendship.

Unease filled the air between them until Jo finally spoke up. "I'll get you something more comfortable to wear," she offered nervously.

He blushed and was frustrated that he was already feeling awkward. "Thanks," he managed to remind himself to say as she stood and left the room.

If it had been any other time he would have likely felt himself possessed by curiosity and, having the room to himself, would have satisfied it by familiarizing himself with the place Jo called home. As it was, it was all he felt he could do not to fall asleep while he waited on her to come back. He closed his eyes, his body slouching over slightly with the fatigue but he willed himself to remain conscious until she returned.

After a few minutes he heard footsteps coming down the hall and he slowly forced his heavy eye lids open just as she walked up next to him. She was wearing a matching set of worn, soft thermal pajamas and the sight woke him up considerably. However, illness had slowed down his thought processes and too late he remembered it was rude to stare. When he realized how obviously struck he was by the domesticity of her current clothing he looked away, too quickly to be natural. She'd already noticed anyway.

"Here," she said pushing her hands towards him.

He looked up at the clothes she was handing him and he couldn't stop himself laughing a bit. It was a NYPD t-shirt and sweatpants set, much like several he had at home that he had acquired during his arrests for indecent exposure.

"What?" she asked, a hint of a smile at the corner of her lips. "I know they're not as stylish as what you normally wear but it will certainly be more comfortable for you right now than all that fru fru," she said waving a hand at his now rumbled clothes.

"This is perfectly fine," he said, still smiling at the inside joke as he took them. She didn't know about his 'skinny dipping' yet. "Thank you."

Her smile quickly faded. Her face quickly twisted in a odd expression and her mouth quivered slightly. " 'Scuse me," she said before bolting out of the room. He heard the bathroom door shut hard and he understood.

When she vacated the bathroom several minutes later he got up and, without a word, went in himself. He changed into the borrowed clothes which felt so much better than he ever remembered them feeling. He liked formal clothes was normally quite comfortable in them but right now he was glad to be rid of the tight stiff fabric in favor of warm, soft cotton.

This moment of bliss was brief as his stomach demanded to be attended to once more. He was glad, at least, that he was already in the bathroom and that it saved himself a trip. But this need to vomit again so shortly after the last time filled him with a sense of foreboding; at this rate, he feared it was going to be a very long night.

He left the bathroom feeling hollow but at least slightly more comfortable. Jo was back in her curled up position on the couch but her eyes were open and she was staring listlessly at the ceiling. "Hey," she greeted weakly but with a smile. She looked miserable but there was a hint of real pleasure in her voice upon seeing him. Even if this was an awkward night, he was glad he was there.

"Hey," he greeted back as he sat down.

"So," she said. "How do we beat this thing, _Doctor_?"

"Well, hydration is the main thing. With all we are...losing, dehydration is the main concern," he replied from his medical training, even though the thought of even drinking water seemed to be more than he thought he could handle. He was almost sure that if he drank it now he would just throw it back up. Despite his advice, he made no move to get them any.

Jo didn't seem to be in a hurry either. "Is there any medicine we should take?" she asked, her voice a bit hopeful. Surely, she wanted something to relieve the symptoms.

He was sorry he had to burst her bubble yet again. "I'm afraid not."

"But why not? Something to help with the...you know."

"As unpleasant as the..." he was going to say 'vomiting' but didn't think either of them could handle hearing it,"...the _symptoms_ are, they are the body's way of healing itself. Expelling is how the body rids itself of the contagion as quickly as possible. If you stop that, you will only be prolonging your illness."

"Aww, come on," she protested, her voice taking on a small uncharacteristic bit of whininess to it.

"The best thing we can do is just let this run its course," he said giving her arm a quick and playful pat to help soften the difficult diagnosis.

"Doctors never have any good news," she said with frustration but he could tell it was exaggerated because there was a smile on her face.

"Hey, it's not my fault; I'm just the messenger. At least tell me that I have better bedside manners than most physicians."

"Hmmm," she said considering him. "I don't know...time will have to tell," she teased.

Jo managed to slowly sit up on the couch beside him. She paused with a hand on her stomach and Henry guessed the shift of gravity on her stomach had caused a sudden wave of nausea. He knew that any movement, no matter how slight, was causing it to assault him. She placed a hand on her mouth and even looked like she was about to leave the room again but she didn't. After a moment she sat back against the couch and removed her hand from her mouth.

"Whew. False alarm," she said with pleasant surprise. "We're good." She turned towards Henry, her other hand still lingering on the offending but, for now, silent stomach. "So, if our _only_ option is to wait for all of this to pass then I guess we might as well enjoy the only good thing about being sick."

"What's that?"

"Watching lots of T.V.!"

He tried not to but he was pretty sure he grimaced. That did not sound like a benefit at all. Noticing the lack of enthusiasm, Jo gave him a playful bump on his shoulder. "Oh, come on."

Henry was momentarily distracted from the conversation. Jo's shove, though minor, caused his stomach to rock back and forth. He took several deep breaths, attempting to calm the now violent churning of his stomach. He closed his eyes and concentrated all his thought and energy into not getting sick but it was several shaky moments before he was sure he would win the battle.

When he opened his eyes again Jo was staring at him with an apologetic look on her face. "Sorry."

"It's fine," he said, pausing and taking another deep breath. "So, you were saying, T.V.?"

"Yes," she said going on. "Let's watch a movie. It might not be your favorite pastime but it will distract us and I don't think we have the strength for much more than that anyway."

He had to agree with her on that. "Alright," he agreed, albeit still a bit reluctantly. "Well, ladies first. Chose one for us," he said with a smile.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. I'm sure we'll have time for more than one." As tired as he was right now, he knew he could never fall asleep and remain asleep with the painful cramps striking their way through his digestive system.

"O.K." she said getting up and grabbing the remote from the table and a blanket that was sitting on the floor. She threw it on the couch and the edge of it brushed up against Henry. It was amazingly fluffy and soft. He was very happy when she sat down and shared it with him, straightening it over both of them. Henry felt himself melting into the couch, covered in the cozy warmth of the blanket, feeling, for the moment, quite content.

Jo surprised him by scooting closer to him under the blanket. She scrunched up again and nestled herself against his side. Apparently a sick Jo was a cuddly Jo. He was surprised but delighted to find this out. He chanced to wrap an arm around her shoulders and instead of throwing him off of her like he normally would have expected she snuggled in even closer and laid her head on his shoulder. Without her being able to see his face he allowed himself to smile widely.

If having food poisoning allowed him to cuddle with Jo like this maybe it wouldn't be so bad after all.

* * *

Henry took it back. He took it all back. Having food poisoning was _terrible_ and nothing was worth it. Even the cuddling wasn't worth it because they didn't end of doing very much of it.

Over the next hour Henry and Jo didn't seem to spend more than a handful of minutes together on the couch. Almost as soon as Jo had started the movie to play, they were hit with what could only be classified as the sequel to the torturous event that had taken place in the bathroom when they had first gotten home. Almost constantly, he was in the bathroom or she was or they both were. It was misery and it showed. Neither of them even had any of the cursed gyros left in their stomachs but their bodies didn't seem to pay attention to that. The heaving continued on just as violent as when it had begun.

They didn't make it much farther than the opening credits of the movie while it was all going on. Eventually, the episode mostly passed and they both collapsed in two lumps on opposite ends of the couch weak, empty and exhausted. Burning, sweating and most definitely running a fever now, Henry couldn't even force himself to cozy up under the blanket; it had been abandoned in frustration on the floor by both of them.

Jo weakly lifted the remote and pushed the start button once again. "Ugh...I feel like I left part of my soul in the bathroom."

He groaned just thinking about what had recently occurred in there. "Just hang in there," he said trying to sound encouraging though his wispy tone made it sound like he was on death's door. "We should be mostly be recovered by tomorrow."

"Either that or we'll be dead."

"I have had food poisoning several times and I can assure you that it is very rarely fatal."

"Don't take all of my hope away, Henry," Jo joked but without her usual smile. She seemed too weak for it.

They were able to watch the remaining two hours of the movie with only a couple of brief interruptions. Jo had picked _Pride and Prejudice_ , telling Henry it was one of her favorites. He hadn't pegged her for an Austenite and made a mental note to ask her more about that when he actually had any mental energy available. At the moment, he found himself watching the movie through an illness induced haze, which both numbed him and slowed his thoughts.

This didn't particularly bother him even though he had not seen this movie before. He'd seen many versions of this story, of course, over the years but he knew he had not seen this relatively new 2005 version. But beyond registering this fact he didn't have many thoughts about it. This was fine because he didn't care much for period pieces. It wasn't that he would say he disliked them it was just they made him feel a strange nostalgic melancholy combination. It was a feeling that wasn't sad exactly; it was very hard to describe but he knew he didn't like feeling it. Also, they were usually grossly inaccurate and there was something just a little too strange about watching them with others who viewed it as ancient history as opposed to seeing them as distant memories like he did.

But the waging war within in him created an almost drunk like emotional numbness all over and he didn't feel much of anything at all. Jo was also quiet for most of the movie too, most likely feeling just as consumed by her illness as he was by his.

They were nearly finished with it when she got up to go to the bathroom but insisted he keep watching. They had been pausing the movie for each other whenever one of them had to leave. He thought about continuing to watch but once he heard the bathroom door shut he stopped the movie. He knew she wouldn't want to miss the big ending and he really didn't care about the movie so there was no need to barrel on without her. He closed his eyes and waited for her.

He had very nearly fallen asleep when he jerked awake, suddenly alert and realizing Jo had been gone a very long time. While they had been spending a lot of time in there, the blaring neon green of the digital clock on Jo's T.V. stand showed she had been gone for 30 minutes. That was a little longer than he felt comfortable with. He had some very legitimate fears that she might have passed out in there.

He decided to go and check on her to see if she needed help. He got up carefully and shakily, the terrible vision of Jo collapsed on the bathroom floor giving him new strength. He wobbled down the hall, losing his balance once and actually running into the wall with his shoulder. Despite himself, and all the ways he had already humiliated himself tonight, he found himself embarrassed by his clumsiness and glad Jo hadn't been there to witness it. He continued on, holding a hand to his now throbbing shoulder.

He was surprised to see that the door to the bathroom was closed. They had both vomited in front of each so many times that they didn't even worry about being seen anymore. They had long ago given up the pretense that they could preserve any privacy or delicacy any more. But he was more surprised and alarmed to hear the sound of Jo moaning quietly from the other side of the door.

"Jo? Are you alright?" he asked, suddenly alert and worried his fears were about to be confirmed. He tried the knob but found she'd locked it.

It instantly got quiet on the other side. "Henry…what are you doing here?" she asked with clear nervousness in her voice.

"You've been in there a long while; I got worried."

"I'm fine," she said in about as unconvincing a tone as was possible and her voice was strained with obvious pain. He could hear her breathing quickly almost like she was trying to contain cries.

"No, you aren't. I heard you moaning."

"Oh," she said and he could tell he'd embarrassed her. "I'm just...having some different symptoms.

"What kind of symptoms?" If her situation was worsening then maybe medical intervention would be needed.

"Well...let's just say that the food is, uh, moving its way through my system."

It took him a minute, much longer than it would have normally, but eventually he got there. "Oh," he said in realization and with a lack of something better to say. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

"No!"

"But you sound like you're in pain."

"I _am_ in pain. But there's nothing you can do about that."

"But-"

"Henry Morgan! Don't you dare open that door!" she ordered firmly.

He stopped, relenting, knowing that the tone in her voice was not an empty threat and that there would be repercussions for not listening to her. He also knew there really wasn't anything that he could do for her but he felt bad leaving her alone in her suffering. "Well...there's really nothing I can do?"

"You can go back to the living room."

"Jo-"

"Henry, please," she begged. "I don't want you on the other side of the door right now. O.K.?" she pleaded and he could hear the desperation in her voice.

"Alright," he said, giving her the privacy she wanted. "But if you need anything, just call for me."

"Thank you!" she said quickly and very dismissively.

Henry did go and wait in the other room but he was worried the entire time. It was another 20 minutes before he finally heard the door to the bathroom click open. He waited to hear her coming down the hall but she never did. He got up to look and found her leaning against the door frame, her eyes closed and a hand pressed to her forehead.

"Are you alright?" he said walking quickly over to her.

"I guess I'm just a little dizzy," she admitted. She didn't protest when he moved in and wrapped an arm around her to help her back to the living room. She wrapped her arms around him and leaned heavily into him, quite relying on his help. He wished he had the strength to pick her up and carry her but he knew better than to kid himself into thinking that was possible right now.

He got them back to couch and slowly lowered them back down. Jo left her arms wrapped around him and her eyes were still closed. "Are you sure you're alright?" he asked worried. He was not used to seeing her so drained and frail.

"Yeah," she said opening her eyes and giving him a smile. "I'm just _so_ tired, you know?"

"That I do," he agreed. "We still have the big finish of your movie to watch," he said as enthusiastically as he could as he reached for the remote, hoping it would distract her and make her feel better. She pulled her legs up and remained leaning against him obviously ready to proceed.

He was alert enough now to comprehend the ending of the movie. He was now aware enough that he started to have some of those thoughts he'd previously been numbed to. When the movie was over Jo looked over and noticed the look on his face. "Are you feeling sick again?" she asked.

"No," he said shaking his head. He hadn't realized he'd been outwardly displaying his discomfort.

"You didn't like it," she said with a bit of disappointment.

What could he say? He couldn't tell her how he now seemed to remember so many things, things he always kind of forgot he remembered until he watched something like this. He couldn't possibly convey the melancholy of watching a movie portray a lifestyle that he remembered living but that he knew he would never once again experience.

"No, it was fine," he answered, even though he could hear that his tone wasn't quite right.

"You're just another man," she said waving a hand in his direction as she leaned forward for the remote and turned the movie off. "I guess I can't expect you to love a romance story. But I did think if any man would like it would be you."

"Why is that?"

She smiled. "Well, you're just so old fashioned and proper I thought you would be a sucker for these period pieces. Plus, you kind of remind me of Mr. Darcy."

"Why?" he asked suddenly, letting his imagination run away with him. For a second, he imagined that his 19th century self was showing through and she could see. Of course, he came to his senses and realized how ridiculous it would be for her to think such a thing.

"Take it easy," she said with a laugh noticing his sudden alarm and mistaking it for offense. "And just for future reference Henry, if a woman compares you to Mr. Darcy that is _not_ an insult."

"It isn't?" he asked noticing the glint in her eye.

"No, it's kind of like the farthest thing from it."

"Oh," he said. That was curious. Then another thought occurred to him. _She_ had just said he was like Mr. Darcy. What did _that_ mean? He couldn't suppress a smirk that spread across his face at the thought

"I only meant," she said smiling but looking a little embarrassed as she realized what she'd said and attempted to wiggle out, "you seem to have similar personalities."

"But he's so awkward. People hate him. They think he's rude and pompous."

"They think that if they don't know him. But the once they get to know him they realize he's one of the kindest, most generous men they know and one the most loyal of friends they could ever have. That reminds me a lot of you."

Henry was extremely touched by her words. He would have to admit that not too long ago he _had_ been rather withdrawn and awkward himself. But in a short time he had made a solid friendship with Jo. One that was even willing to go through all the unpleasantness of food poisoning together. That really did mean something; not everybody was willing to take care of a friend through illness. Besides Abe, he knew she was the only person alive who would be willing to do that for him.

In the silence that followed, she must have realized the significance of her statement. If she weren't already flushed with fever he was sure she would have blushed.

"Anyway," she said looking away and quickly changing the subject, "I still have yet to see the BBC version. That's on my to-watch list," she said gesturing awkwardly at the T.V.

"Well, let's watch it," he said. He'd suddenly had a change of heart and felt like he wouldn't mind watching it again with her.

She laughed a little. "That's very nice of you. But I won't put you through that. It's six hours long."

"Oh," he said, clearly looking uncomfortable with the offer he'd just made.

"Don't worry," she said reassuring him. "It's alright. We'll watch something else. Your turn to pick."

Henry took a deep breath. "Alright. But first, and don't take this as a reflection on your movie choice or your very lovely words, if you'll excuse me for a few moments," he said rising quickly, feeling those ominous stomach cramps that warned him he needed to find the bathroom as soon as possible. Apparently, it was now time for him to have some different symptoms as well.

He walked away quickly hearing Jo laugh quietly behind him as he went.


	3. Chapter 3

"You said I could pick a movie."

"Yes," Jo agreed. "But I didn't know you were going to pick a _Christmas_ movie."

"Hey, now," Henry said defensively. "You said to pick a movie I like and this is one is my favorite; don't make fun of my choices."

"You're right. To be truthful, I'm surprised you even have a favorite movie."

"I'm not a caveman, Jo!" he said clearly affronted. He'd just returned from the bathroom _again_ and, though his insides were still quivering from what had happened in there, he was surprised to find he still had enough energy to be offended. "How little you think of me," he said dramatically shaking his head.

"Alright. I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Jo said holding her hands up in surrender. "I just didn't take you for a movie lover."

"Alright," he said making a show of accepting her apology before speaking seriously again. "I'm not a movie _lover_ but I like some movies. Besides, you're the one in the wrong here. Who has never seen _It's a Wonderful Life_?"

"Me I guess," she said with a shrug.

"But it's a Christmas tradition!"

"Well, my family wasn't big on traditions."

He could hear a very slight bitterness and heaviness in her words. Henry had a lot of secrets but Jo had a few of her own. A troubled family past seemed to be one of them. He briefly wondered how difficult it had been for her, growing up in the kind of neighborhood she said she had with a father on the other side of the law. But he quickly pushed those thoughts away; now was not the time to bring any of that up.

Instead, he said cheerfully, "That's a problem we will quickly remedy."

* * *

Henry let out a tired and weak but long moan his head resting once again against the toilet seat. Was he dead _yet_? Surely, he was almost dead. If he dropped dead right now he did not even think he could find it in himself be anxious about explaining it to Jo. His secret felt terribly small at the moment in comparison to the relief he could experience if he were to pass right now.

Jo had one of her hands resting securely on the back of his neck and the other was rubbing his back in relaxing circles. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply trying to fight off the nausea and focus instead on the comfort of her touch.

"I thought I was done with this. It's been hours," he said.

"Well, I guess it decided to give you one more firm kick in the stomach before it relented."

Henry groaned. "Don't say that," he said wrapping one of his arms around his stomach.

They had made it through more than half of the movie without any interruptions. He had almost hoped they were starting to get better. But just about the point where George and Mary were happily settling into their married life, Henry's stomach had decided it had had enough of being content. He'd been in here so long this time that Jo had checked on him. He'd shamelessly accepted the attention she offered. She seemed to be feeling better since the act of being next to him right now didn't send her back into a relapse of symptoms.

He felt her hands leave him but he didn't move an inch; he didn't trust his stomach with the movement. He heard her running water and then he felt her hand back on his shoulder.

"Sit back a little," she said.

He shook his head. "No," he said. He didn't want to move. The vomiting had stopped a few minutes ago but he wasn't sure it would stay that way if he moved.

"Come on. It will be fine," she encouraged.

He opened his eyes and looked at her and she had a washcloth in her hand. She didn't push him which he was grateful for. He took another deep breath before sliding very slowly and carefully away from the toilet just enough for her to face him. His face was once again covered in sweat and she ran the washcloth gently across his forehead and cheeks.

"You're a lot gentler than Abe would have been," he remarked with a smile. The washcloth was cool on his face and made him feel better as she ran it slowly across his skin. Maybe even good enough that he wasn't going to get sick again. It felt good to let her do this for him. He'd forgotten how nice it was to be taken care of especially when you were sick.

She smiled back. "Well, he doesn't have that nurturing female touch."

Henry laughed. "No, he doesn't. He has more of that tough-fend-for-yourself kind of love."

"He _is_ a man," she said as she finished cleaning his face.

Truth be told, Henry wouldn't have been for sure if _Jo_ had that nurturing female touch either before this night. He was a little surprised as he watched her, her face very attentive and close to his, her touch surprisingly tender. He was struck by how personal this was and in his weakened state he soaked up every bit of affection he could.

She looked up and he could tell she had caught him staring at her. He briefly wondered if that would bother her but she only smiled and sat the washcloth aside. "I am sorry about this," she said.

"It isn't you fault, Jo. There is no way of knowing these things."

"But it was my idea to eat at that silly stand. I...I only did it to bug you," she admitted with a half grin.

"I know," he said grinning back at her. "And still, I don't blame you. That being said, though, I have eaten my first and _last_ gyro."

"Fair enough. Come on," she said putting a hand on his shoulder.

"Maybe it would be best if I just stayed here," he said uncertainly.

"No. Come on. I have to find out what happens to George Bailey."

"Well, you can go on. I'm getting rather fond of this room after all," he said with a grim sort of smile.

"If you're so worried," she said, reaching over to pick up a small trashcan that sat next to the toilet and handing it to him, "here."

He shoved it back at her. Though his stomach was still rocking, he loathed the idea of throwing up in a trash can. There was little dignity in doing it in the bathroom but there was a bit more. "I won't be needing that."

"Alright then. Let's go."

Despite the heavy wave of nausea and the worry that came along with it, Henry's stomach didn't give him anymore trouble and they were able to finish the rest of the movie without any interruptions. But as Henry watched the final scene of the movie fade away it was something else he was battling.

This darn movie; he should have known better than to watch this one with company. Movies rarely had such an impact on him but this one always left him a little misty-eyed at the end, watching George Bailey believe in life again. In his now sick, vulnerable and compromised state Henry found himself feeling a little more emotional than normal.

As Henry watched George open his gift copy of Tom Sawyer he felt more than just the usual glint of a tear in his eye. He felt himself deeply touched and reflective and drawing strong parallels between his life and George's as he read the note "No man is a failure who has friends."

Until recently, his life had not been unlike George's. It wasn't long ago that _he_ wanted to give up on life. He had thought he had no place or purpose; he had actually believed that the world would be better off without him. He had felt alone and unappreciated. Of course, he couldn't end his plight so easily as jumping off a bridge but those feelings had been there and, beating heart aside, he had quite stopped living at all.

It was only at this moment he realized how completely those feelings were gone. It wasn't the movie that touched him nearly as much as realizing that it had been a long time since he had felt that hopeless. He didn't feel like dying anymore. He was actually _happy_. He didn't feel alone or unimportant. It may be a strange thing but he found himself feeling thankful for this night. He wasn't glad for the illness but he was glad for what it made him realize: He actually had friends again. He had one even willing to see him through all the indignity of food poisoning sitting right next to him. That was no small feat and it was not born out of a casual relationship but something much more than that. Jo really cared about him. Clarence was right; that really did make all the difference.

"Aww, you're a softie."

Jo's voice broke him out of his reflective state. He quickly cleared his throat and looked at her.

"Pardon me?" he asked.

"You cry at movies," she teased but it was in an affectionate tone and not at all mean-spirited.

His vision was blurred from the tears but he had hoped he would be able to conceal them if he didn't draw attention to them. Seeing as how she saw them anyway he took his hand and rubbed his eyes quickly. He forced a smile hoping to cover up the reaction that was sure to make him look weak. "Not usually."

"It's alright; I think it's sweet."

This wasn't exactly the reaction he would have expected from her but he could tell her words were genuine.

"It was a good movie."

"It is isn't?" he agreed. "Hope. Believing in life. Finding out you're not alone in this world like you thought, unnoticed and unappreciated..."

They were both quiet and reflective now. It was some time before Jo spoke and broke it again. "I should have guessed you would be an old black and white movie watcher."

"Why is that?" he asked feeling that brief twinge of worry be always did when he feared he'd let too much of himself show.

"Oh, come on. Just look at you; it should have been obvious. Most of the time you like we fell out of the past."

"Oh." He forced a laugh but it came out sounding nervous. He knew she was joking but that was just a little too close to the truth.

"So. What's next?" she asked.

"Ah, no. I picked the last. It's your turn."

"Hmmm," she paused thinking about it. Then she smiled. "Ah, I think I have a good one for you."

He didn't particularly like the way she looked so pleased; it felt like it was going to come at his expense. "What is it?" he asked nervously.

"Well, Mr. Old-Fashioned, this is an older movie, like about 20 years old so it's not up to date to the world as we know it. But even still it will probably stretch your mind in the ways of 'modern technology.'"

He cocked his head at her seeing where this was going. He repressed the urge to roll his eyes at the all too frequent need of others to taunt him about his dislike of technology. "I'll try to keep up," he said too sweetly and with a fake smile.

She laughed knowing, as she always did, that she had struck just the nerve she wanted to.

* * *

Jo started her chosen movie _You've Got Mail_ and had instantly stopped the informational speech Henry had been about to give on how, according to the opening credits, this movie was based on an old black and white movie, coincidentally also staring Jimmy Stewart. She told him right away, in a firm but loving way, to shut his mouth and this was her time to choose; if he wanted to talk about it, the next movie would be his choice.

He had complied, not really having expected any other reaction from her, and settled into the couch. But he didn't benefit much from her intended lesson on online communication in the 20th century. Meg Ryan and Tom Hanks had only just begun their rivalry when he nodded off.

Amazingly, he remained sleeping through the rest of the movie because when he woke again the movie had returned to the main screen. His first thoughts were ones of delight that he had actually fallen asleep and stayed asleep for so long without a problem from his stomach. Then, a quick thought of worry that he might have offended Jo by falling asleep so quickly after her movie choice.

He looked over and was relieved to find her slumped over on the opposite arm of the couch fast asleep. He smiled and was just about to settle back in and maybe get some more sleep when he realized what must have woke him. Though asleep, Jo didn't not seem to be having the pleasant, undisturbed variety as he had experienced. She was stirring slightly, looking as though she were uncomfortable. She even whimpered quietly like she was in pain. He was sure that her stomach must be tormenting her even as she slept and he gave her a sympathetic smile even though she couldn't see. He actually felt much better physically but she was obviously still suffering.

He was still considering going back to sleep when Jo started to move around even more. Her face turned up in an expression of discomfort and she even cried out. Though he knew she needed her rest he wondered if it might be better to wake her so maybe they could find a way to relieve her pain. He was still debating which option would be better for her when she spoke.

"Sean," she whispered in her sleep. "Sean," she cried out again but more pitifully this time.

Henry froze. He'd been mistaken. She wasn't stirring from physical pain but from her memories and dreams. He felt guilty to be hearing this. He knew she wouldn't want him to. She would be embarrassed and he couldn't help but feel he was intruding on something private, something he hadn't earned the right to yet.

Jo rarely talked about her husband and when she did it always brought tears to her eyes. Though she had not yet mentioned his name to Henry, he had no doubt that this must be who her subconscious mind was searching for. The pain in her voice was a much amplified version of what he had heard when she had mentioned him before and it spoke of the true and unconcealed anguish she really felt inside. It tore into his heart and empathy flooded through him for her.

He knew that pain; boy, did he know that pain. It was so fresh and new in her; so potent. He remembered that. He couldn't help but feel he hadn't been a very good friend to her. He knew what she was going through and the best advice he'd had yet to give her was "the pain won't go away" and "get yourself out there more." He was ashamed of himself and endeavored to do better, to be a better friend and to be more supportive. He knew from his own experience he couldn't force her to talk about her pain and grief but he would offer her his ear and shoulder more often. She had already helped him in so many ways, changed his life even, and he _would_ do more for her.

She struggled even more, still calling out for someone who would never answer again. He couldn't stop himself from reaching out for her and trying to comfort her; it was too dreadful to leave her calling out to the silence. He pulled her to himself and held her against his chest. He rubbed her back as he gently shushed her and found that it helped. She stopped calling out and she finally fell unmoving in his arms. He was glad she was resting now, untroubled, but his heart was heavy.

He had been holding her for several minutes, admittedly getting quite lost in the experience of her in his arms, when, with a start, he realized she was awake. She pulled back slightly looking around her with a confused expression on her face. He was embarrassed to be caught holding her, having never been in such a position before. Their relationship was relatively new and he felt the need to explain why he should be caught in what felt like a too familiar gesture.

"Jo, I-" he began.

But to his dismay a look of alarm covered her face and she instantly shoved him away.

"Wait, I can explain," he said losing his hold on her but not letting her go yet.

"No!" she said suddenly and with force.

"But I-"

"Henry!" she nearly shouted. "Let me go!"

It was then that he realized her need to get away had nothing to do with him and everything to do with her stomach. The second he released her she bolted for the bathroom as fast as her weak legs could take her, stumbling along the way in her still sleepy state.

He was feeling a bit stronger himself and he wanted to go and help her. But even though she couldn't move fast, he wasn't sure she would want help. She might want to be alone which he would certainly understand. For the sake of her dignity (what was left of it anyway) he allowed her a few minutes of privacy before he went to check on her.

"And I didn't think it was possible for me to get anymore embarrassed," she bemoaned, disgust in her voice.

"I should have helped you. I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault. I took off before you could."

"You were understandably in a hurry."

Jo's dignity, it seemed, didn't want to preserve itself. For all his consideration about giving her privacy, it would have been better if he had tried to assist her. As it turned out her fragile body hadn't been able to get her to her destination on time.

He had just cleaned the mess off the floor and was now rubbing her back the way she had done for him. She was already embarrassed and he cringed when he realized that he had to point out that her hair, which he had not been there to hold back for her, had found its way into the line of fire.

She looked like she wanted to cry or drop dead; perhaps both. She put a hand over her eyes. "This is so humiliating."

"Don't be embarrassed," he said with a small smile. "I think we gave that up several hours ago."

She smiled ruefully. "Yeah I suppose. I'm just so tired..." she said, her voice trailing off. The task of washing her hair seemed to be more than she thought she could bear at the moment.

"Let me help," he said scooting over towards the bathtub and motioning for her to follow.

She looked like she really wanted to protest but she was beyond the point of pretending she didn't need the help. She scooted over to the side of the tub and leaned her head over. Henry gently brushed her hair so that it all fell over the side. He started the water and tested it to make sure it was comfortable. Once it was at a good temperature he cradled her head in one hand and used the other to pour the water over her head.

He took a certain pleasure in doing this for her; he couldn't even remember how long it had been since he had washed a woman's hair. He was glad she was more willing to accept help than she usually was and grateful he was there to offer. She also seemed to be enjoying it. She closed her eyes as he thoroughly wet all of her thick dark locks and he felt her relaxing as her head became heavier in his hand. When he reached for her shampoo and started massaging into her hair she even smiled and sighed.

"That feels really good," she admitted.

He smiled, glad she felt comfortable enough to admit it. "Good."

"O.K. I admit it; you definitely have better bedside manners than any doctor I know."

He laughed. "Good to know."

He washed her hair and rinsed it out, taking much longer to do it than was necessary so she could enjoy it longer. When he had finished he gently squeezed the water from her hair and handed her towel. She took it gratefully and started patting her hair dry. "Thanks, Henry," she said genuinely.

"You're very welcome."

"I don't know of anyone else who would be willing to clean puke out of my hair."

She said it with a smile but her expression quickly transformed and he thought she looked like she wanted to cry. She looked away, paying extreme attention now to drying her hair.

"Jo," he started delicately. "Are you alright?"

She looked back at him. "I think it's quite clear that I'm not," she said with a smile gesturing around the bathroom.

He was remembering what had happened in the living before she had gotten sick. "I don't mean the food poisoning. I mean are _you_ alright."

She looked into his eyes and she understood what he meant. She looked down at the floor. "Why would you ask me that, Henry?"

"Right before you woke up, you were...you were calling out in your sleep. For Sean," he said quietly.

She pressed her lips together still not looking up at him and he knew she was fighting the urge to cry. She was quiet for so long he wondered if he shouldn't have brought it up. Finally, she looked up at him and spoke, her voice, though wavering, sounded strong. "I'm _not_ ," she admitted. "But every day I think I get a little closer."

He smiled at her, her answer reassuring him. It was a good answer. They exchanged a long look and though he didn't feel he needed to say anything more right now he hoped his expression somehow conveyed to her that she _would_ make it there someday.

She threw the towel on the floor. "Now, I think it's time for us get some sleep," she said, tiredly.

Exhausted and his body aching, he did not protest. They both wrapped an arm around each other and stumbled out of the bathroom. Jo pulled them along and Henry followed but he was surprised when he realized they were heading for the stairs and not the living room. His heart jumped a few times and his mind quickly went in about ten different directions when he realized she must be leading them up to her bedroom. She meant they were going to sleep in her _bed_.

It wasn't as if he thought this meant anything indecent. They were shaking with chills, so weak they could barely stand and they both probably smelled like vomit and sweat. But even though he knew this didn't mean anything improper, it still seemed intimate, too intimate for what they were to each other. Even though getting proper sleep was made a necessity by their circumstance it still felt like crossing some sort of line and he struggled to make sense of it and try to know what he ought to do.

When they finally managed to pull themselves up to the top of the stairs and to the door of Jo's bedroom he couldn't remain silent any longer. He held out a hand to stop her though he still wasn't sure what to say. She looked at him curiously, unsure of why he had stopped her. She thought for a second and then rolled her eyes with comprehension. "We need real sleep, in a bed. Not cramped on the couch."

"Yeah, but…" he said struggling uncomfortably.

"I promise I won't take advantage of you, Henry," she said teasing. "Trust me; you would know if I was trying to get you _in bed_."

He knew she was only playing but he was serious. What she was joking about what not the real issue. He needed to make sure that she was really alight with this, that she didn't feel pressured into offering just because he was here and ill. "Jo, are you sure?"

"Just lighten up," she said, sounding a little annoyed now.

"No, I mean it," he said looking in her eyes, hoping she would understand what he meant. Considering what they had just spoken of he wanted to make sure he wasn't going to do anything she wasn't comfortable with. She probably wanted to skim over the issue but he knew she needed to address it. He had personally dealt with this.

His cheeks burned and it had nothing to do with fever this time. This was such a delicate subject and he really hoped she would read in between the lines and that for both their sakes he wouldn't have to say the words out loud. "I would understand if you wanted to keep this...private. I wouldn't be offended if you would rather I sleep on the couch."

He saw as it dawned on her and her eyes took on a sad hint as they glanced towards the bed and back again. He knew the kinds of things she had gotten into, the things she had done to cover her grief. He knew the vices she'd turned to; they were the very same ones he'd turned to after he'd lost Abigail. He understood completely.

He just didn't think those things had happened at her home. He knew how these things went; you might seek out the company of others but you didn't bring them into your home. Not the place you'd shared with the one you'd loved. Certain things you kept sacred. At least, that was what he had done. He wasn't sure if she had done the same or felt the same. But if she did, even though everything her and him would be doing would be perfectly innocent, he didn't want to intrude. As evidenced by what he'd recently witnessed her grief was still fresh and he didn't want to be inconsiderate of that.

She thought for a long moment but when she looked back at him she looked certain. "Yeah. Don't make a big thing of it," she said with a shrug, still sounding a little annoyed. He could tell he'd embarrassed her but she didn't seem upset.

"Alright then," he agreed following her in. If she was alright with it then he wasn't going to fight it anymore. Maybe he _did_ just make a big deal out of things. The bed did look so tempting now; he was much more exhausted than he had realized.

She sat him down on one side of the bed and turned on a lamp for a minute. She pulled a plastic trash can beside him and pointed at it. "Now, use that if you need it. Don't get back up unless you have to."

He tried not to grimace at it and firmly told his body they would _not_ be needing it. "Yes, Doctor," he said nodding and smiling.

She smiled then studied him for moment. "Would you like another shirt?"

He glanced down at his now pretty sweaty shirt. This night really had been so embarrassing but he was so tired he hardly felt it anymore. "Yes, I suppose that would be a good idea."

She went to the dresser and pulled out another t-shirt. She handled it to him. "Now get some sleep," she said turning off the lamp and walking wearily to the other aside of the bed. He threw the dirty shirt off quickly, tossing it to the floor and put the clean one on.

He was so exhausted he didn't even have time contemplate how strange it was that he was sliding himself under the covers of Jo's bed. He wished he had a bit of energy to think about how it felt to be going to sleep beside her. But all he could think about was how soft the bed was and how a bed had never felt so good. His throbbing abdomen and aching body seemed to be soothed as he sank into it. He would be asleep in about a second.

Jo got in the bed and rolled over on her side facing him. He turned his head slightly so he could look over at her. It was dark but he could still make out her face faintly. He couldn't help but smile at her as he looked at her lying in the bed next to him her hand tucked up under her head.

"Sleep well, Jo," he whispered.

"You too, Henry," she said her eyes already shutting.

Despite the food poisoning and everything that came along with it, they both drifted off more easily and peacefully than either was accustomed to.


	4. Chapter 4

Waking was harsh, though thankfully it wasn't because of his stomach. Henry woke with a start, some noise having woken him up instead of a protest from his body. Bright sunshine was now streaming through Jo's bedroom window and onto the bed where they had been sleeping. By the looks of it, it was late morning or early afternoon and he was amazed that he had been able to sleep so long.

His head pounded and his body was stiff. He groaned slightly as he stretched and moved his face out of the way of the direct sunlight. He felt like he had slept for days. Though he'd had his doubts about how well he would sleep, the aches in his muscles told him he'd slept like a rock, probably without moving an inch all night. He was incredibly pleased when he realized that his stomach felt pretty settled. He'd been asleep for hours and hadn't woken up to get sick. Perhaps he was out of the woods.

He smiled as he glanced over at Jo beside him. She on her back, out cold. One hand was still tucked under her head the other resting on her stomach. One of her legs was stretched out above the covers and the other was pulled up and knotted in the sheets. Her mouth was hanging open and she wasn't snoring _exactly_ , just breathing really loudly. It was not the dreamy kind of pose sleeping people were always portrayed as having in movies; this was reality. This was what a person sleeping soundly actually looked like. He smiled because she still looked pretty cute anyway. Honestly, she looked more than cute. The sun was shining on hair, making it seem to glow several new shades of brown. Her face was flushed, with fever of course, but still beautiful.

Even under these circumstances Henry never would have imagined he would be waking up in bed next to Jo. It had been a very long time since he had woken up next to a woman. Sure, he had shared a bed with a decent number of women during the past few decades. But to wake next to one in the light of day, that was much less common. That required a level of commitment, a certain degree of comfort shared with another person. If memory served right he had hadn't had that since…

It struck him exactly when the last time had been and he immediately told himself to stop such thoughts. It was entirely too early and he way was too exhausted for such deep and painful reflection. Even still, a painful mass gathered in his throat and he forced himself to remain here in the present and not to get pulled into the past as he too often did. He allowed himself only enough reflection into his memories to help him to better appreciate this moment.

He was looking forward to laying there for a while, both resting and staring at Jo when he realized that someone was knocking on the front door downstairs. He didn't want to answer it and squeezed his eyes shut, breathing in deep the Jo-like smell that was coming from the pillow under his head. His whole body hurt and he did not look forward to getting up. The knock came again this time very persistent and it made him remember. It was probably Abe downstairs; he had said he would come over. He didn't want to make Abe wait and he also didn't want Jo to be woken up so he forced himself to rise as quickly as he could, which was still not very fast but it was progress.

He got out of bed as quietly as he could and made his way down the stairs. He wobbled a little on his feet and he clung to the railing for security more than he would on any other day.

When he opened the door Abe was standing there with a bag of groceries. "I've brought some supplies," he said triumphantly as he made his way in.

Henry squinted at the bright sunshine. "Good morning, Abe."

"More like 'good afternoon'. I didn't wake you did I?"

"Yes, actually," Henry said his words still a little slow with sleep.

"Sorry. I thought you would be awake. It's well past noon."

"It's fine. We just had a bit of a rough night."

"I can see," he said looking Henry up and down." You look awful."

"Thanks," Henry said sarcastically. "I've been better."

"Where's Jo?"

"She's still in bed," he said waving a hand in that direction and rubbing his still sleep covered eyes.

Abe raised his eyebrow curiously and smiled.

"Oh, not this again," Henry said rolling his eyes. "Believe me, I just had one of the most unattractive nights of my life. You have absolutely nothing to be excited about."

"Ah, well, I should know better where you're concerned anyway. You doing alright?" he added turning more serious.

"On the mend. Thanks for asking," Henry said with a smile. He leaned in and gave Abe a brief hug.

"Whoa Pops," Abe said, pulling back quickly from the hug.

"What?"

"Good thing you're not at work."

"Why?"

"Because your breath could wake the dead," Abe said, covering his nose dramatically.

Henry let out a sigh and rolled his eyes again. "Don't you have anything encouraging to say?"

"Of course I do. But only for very beautiful women. Good morning, Jo," Abe said nicely as he noticed Jo coming down the stairs behind Henry.

Henry turned and saw her, sleep still lingering on her face but she smiled as she pulled a robe around herself. She crossed her arms kind of self-consciously when she got closer to them.

"How are you doing?" Abe asked kindly.

"Better than last night. Me and Henry kind of had a hard time of it."

"Well, you don't look it," Abe said charismatically, giving her a charming smile.

Henry rolled his eyes yet again and shook his head. Abe was really laying it on thick today.

Jo laughed. "That's nice of you to say."

"I brought food," Abe said to Jo. "If you'll just point me in the direction of kitchen."

"Thank you, Abe," she said sincerely. "It's down the hall and to the left."

"Good you _kids_ just go and relax," he said with a large smile as he made his way down the hall.

Henry gave an annoyed sigh as Abe walked away.

"What?" Jo asked smiling.

"Nothing. He just thinks he's funny. Come on," he said as they made their way back to the living room.

They both sat on the couch again though it looked much different in the light of day. "How are you doing?" Henry asked.

"Pretty good I think," Jo answered. "Still really tired but I feel like I might actually be able to eat something _maybe_ ," she said with much emphasis on the last word. "You?"

"Same, same," he said nodding.

"So, Doctor, you think we're out of the woods?"

"Well, not to tempt fate too much, but I think as long as we take it easy over the next couple of days I think we should be alright. So, maybe you'll want to lay off on wrestling criminals to the ground and eating any adventurous food."

"I think I can live without the both for a few days," she said smiling, even though she sounded incredibly exhausted.

They started in the direction of the T.V. but neither turned it on. Henry had a feeling that it wouldn't be long and they would be asleep again. He was pretty sure just the act of eating (if he _could_ eat, he still wasn't convinced it was going to happen) would take what little energy he had available to give.

They both stared mutely at the wall in shared silence until Abe walked in, bringing out a tray with food on it. On it was a plate of toast, cup of Jell-O, and glass of tonic each for Henry and Jo.

"You made this according to my recipe," Henry asked pointing towards his glass.

"Yes, of course," Abe said exasperated.

"You're sure you remembered to add the-"

"I added everything just fine!" Abe said with clear frustration at Henry. He turned towards Jo. "Doctors really do make the worse patients don't they? I've made this dozens of times and still he asks the same questions each time. My sympathies for what you must have gone through last night."

Jo smiled and glanced at Henry out of the corner of her eye. Henry wished she would contradict Abe, that she would stand up for him. But to his slight ire she did not. "Thank you Abe, for all of this," she said instead. He guessed he couldn't fault her too much.

"You're very welcome. I'm just sorry, this is such a bland presentation but Henry told me last night you two wouldn't be up for anything more adventurous than this," he said.

 _Busted_! Henry thought. Quickly, he spoke up, hoping to distract Jo from what she'd just heard. "Yes, thank you, Abraham!" he said dismissively.

Unfortunately, Jo seemed to be thinking more like her normal, bright and quick self. He could practically feel Jo's stare on him as he determinedly refused to make eye contact. Abe looked over at her and could see she was staring at Henry wanting him to explain. He smiled widely and shamelessly as he left the room. Henry couldn't help think he really was a brat sometimes.

He reluctantly turned to face her and saw her giving him a loaded stare. He gave her a exaggerated innocent one in return.

"So, you, uh, spoke to Abe? Last night, didn't you?"

"Yes," he admitted.

"He was home the whole time wasn't he?"

Henry could see, in the light of day, that lying to Jo had been wrong. Admittedly, he had known that even when Abe had been cautioning him against it. But even now, even as she looked at him accusingly, he still couldn't regret what he'd done. He was glad he'd stayed to take of her and keep her company. He was also grateful for everything he'd learned about his friendship with Jo last night. He felt their relationship had been put to the test but that they had passed with flying colors. Though he wouldn't have chosen this means for discovering this new information he now knew their relationship was even stronger than he'd imagined. He hoped she didn't feel so differently about what had happened between them.

"Uh... yes, he was. I didn't mean to be any inconvenience-"

She gave his shoulder a little punch but it was playful. "Thank you," she said smiling warmly at him. He could tell she understood why he had stayed and that she was glad about it too.

"You're quite welcome," he said with a smile.

He reached for his glass of tonic and turning towards her, held it up in a toast. "To health and friendship."

She smiled and clicked her glass against his. "And to never eating another gyro sandwich for the rest of our lives!"

"Now _that_ is something I can drink to."


End file.
